


To be each other's family

by dorina16able



Series: I can be your family [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, OTP Feels, Post-Battle, Reunion, Sansa Stark Approves, Story request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 04:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18613030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorina16able/pseuds/dorina16able
Summary: Never before did he feel as relieved as in the moment he saw her after the battle, alive and in her sister’s hug. Never before did she feel as beautiful as in the moment he held her and told her she was his family.





	To be each other's family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abi117](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abi117/gifts).



> Soooo, here's another Gendrya story after a reviewer's request, who wanted me to write about their reunion post-battle of Winterfell. Since we haven't seen the third episode yet, I added my own version about some characters (like Dany and Rhaegal dying, Pod getting injured and so on). I do not know what's gonna happen in the actual battle and which characters we're going to lose, praying for everybody here.
> 
> So, Abi117, here's your story, hope you'll like it :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Game of Thrones universe and characters

One would say that Gendry had gone through his fair share of hardships and battles throughout his life. Growing up in the challenging environment at Flea Bottom, travelling as a recruit of the Night’s Watch, living with the Brotherhood, being sold to the Red Woman, hiding in King’s Landing and later travelling north of the Wall to encounter an enemy he never thought he would face.

Yet nothing in his life could ever prepare him for the feeling that overwhelmed him when the night turned to dawn and the blasting horn announced the end of the fierce battle that ensued in Winterfell. This terrifying and simultaneously amazing feeling of relief to be alive, of exhaustion due to the endless fighting he’d been doing for hours and of a cold, paralyzing fear for everyone else; for the allies and friends he had made and for the wild Stark girl who always had his back just like he had hers, whom he trusted just like she trusted him, from when they were younger and he kept her true identity a secret to last night, when they spent what could have been their final moments together, protected from the rest of the world in the small room of the Winterfell forge.

He walked across the castle for what were probably only a couple of minutes, but to him it seemed like hours, blue eyes staying to every corpse he was seeing and every person he passed by, trying to recognize someone he knew. From the forge to the Godswood, to the courtyard and from there to the wall; offering his advice wherever he could, guiding the injured to a secluded area where the healers were stationed and giving whatever small comfort he could to the terrified smallfolk…not that there was actual comfort when the castle was now in ruins in a lot of places and when they had just fought against Death itself.

He saw the crumbled wall that had broken down due to the weight of one of Daenerys Targaryen’s dragons—Rhaegal, Gendry thought his name was, impaled by one of the Night King’s spears, the enormous creature perishing mere seconds before the Dragon Queen herself, who fell victim to the Night King as well. He saw Samwell Tarly and a soldier with the armor of the Ironborn tending to the bodies of Bran Stark and Theon Greyjoy, both of them having fallen while serving as bait for the dead army, the latter defending the mysterious young boy to his last breath. He saw Brienne of Tarth and Ser Jaime Lannister carrying Podrick Payne’s unconscious form to the healing area and Lord Commander Edd helping an injured Tormund despite the Wilding cursing that he didn’t need any goddamn help like a baby. He saw the Hound assisting Beric Dondarrion, actually trying to suppress a smirk at the sight, for who would have known that two people who argued about the most ridiculous reasons could have formed this unlikely friendship?

Anywhere Gendry saw, friends were reunited, the dead were being mourned, army commanders and lords exchanged strategic advice about what should be done now and how everyone would get settled in once they had sorted the mess the army of the White Walkers had left behind. And despite the smile that marked his face at his happiness to be alive, it still left a bittersweet sensation behind; for the losses they had suffered and for the uncertain future that lay ahead of them.

“Well, well, it seems Ser Davos was right, my friend!” Finally, a familiar voice sounded in the near distance and Gendry laughed when Jon Snow wrapped him in a brotherly hug which he returned immediately. “You are really too tough to be killed.”

“I guess I am safe for the next ten years or so if not even an army of the dead could kill me.” Gendry joked back, patting his friend on the shoulder as they pulled away, noticing that he didn’t seem severely injured. His smile, though, quickly faded away at Jon’s devastated expression and, although he knew that no words could console him now, he still wanted to show him the same kindness Jon had showed him from the beginning. “Your brother…I am so sorry. And Her Grace…I know she was important to you.”

Jon nodded absentmindedly in thanks, but the way he averted Gendry’s eyes and stared into nothing was evidence enough for the blacksmith that the other man’s mind was travelling elsewhere…in fact, Jon almost gave the impression of being haunted by something way worse and way deeper than the battle that had ended and everything that needed to be mended. Therefore he did not reply, giving the former King in the North his space, although he desperately sought for a way to ask the question that was burning in his mind and didn’t allow him to fully process the fact that the fight was over.

“Arya was asking about you.”

“She…She did?” Gendry gasped, caught off guard by Jon’s statement that seemed like an answer to his previous thoughts, while at the same time he contemplated about the hidden context behind these words…if Arya was asking about him, did that mean… “Is she alright? Is she safe?”

“She is…she is at the gates with Sansa.” Jon elaborated, now looking at him with curiosity and confusion alike. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“It’s a long story…but I’d better let your sister tell you when she feels ready, otherwise she’ll do what the White Walkers didn’t and murder me slowly and painfully.”

The two men shared a laugh at that; at the imply that Arya would kill Gendry should he ever speak on her behalf and reveal information about their common past. He had realized that Arya herself had gone through lots and lots of hardships—it wasn’t only evident in her scars, which he had traced so carefully the previous night, but also in her determination to regain at least a little bit of control before the battle, in how she pulled away from desperate embraces and in her persistence to keep everything that ever hurt her locked in her, without allowing anyone in.

Gendry couldn’t help but feel guilty about it, thinking that he was partly to blame as well, when he rejected her innocent and tearful plea to be his family, back when she was only a child and before she grew into this terrifying and so brave woman he met when he arrived in Winterfell. But the end of the battle had brought regrets and contemplation to surface and so he quickly excused himself from Jon and headed towards the gate, determined to make it up to her.

Jon just stared quizzically at him retreating, thinking perplexed that Arya did not exactly sound murderous when she asked about Gendry’s wellbeing and he wondered just what past exactly these two could share.

 

“You asked for me, m’lady?”

The deep voice, together with the teasing comment that was full of relief at the same time, finally made Arya raise her head from where it was resting on Sansa’s shoulder and leave her embrace to look at the man who had joined them at the gate of Winterfell, where they had been inspecting the damage done to it. She coughed discretely and wore a neutral expression, trying with all her best to ignore the flood of relief and emotions at the mere sound of his voice…trying to appear as the expressionless warrior she had been trained to be and not as someone who wanted to jump right into the arms of the owner of the voice.

But all restrain fell apart as their eyes met and she took in his appearance; torn, with cuts on his face and arms, but _alive_ , with the smirk he threw at her yesterday that challenged her to test his boundaries and, eventually, gave her the strength she needed to go to him before the battle. In that moment all thoughts of being composed melted away, faded like a forgotten dream and, right now, she no longer felt like the tough soldier she was when she fought the White Walkers. Right now, with the battle over and Gendry staring at her like she was the most precious thing in this world for him, Arya once more became the girl who used to tease him…the woman he made her feel last night.

But Gendry’s reaction wasn’t better; all desperate thoughts, all sadness at the losses, all fear for the future disappeared as he focused on her: her serious expression, her glinting eyes that betrayed her inner thoughts, her slight fidgeting as if she was trying to stand her ground and not approach him too directly…seven hells, she hadn’t even reacted to him using her usual nickname and that alone said a lot. When he spotted her, alive and in her sister's hug, that was when he truly realized that they came out of this ordeal alive…and never before did he feel as relieved.

“So, here you are.” Arya stated and took a few steps towards him, cautiously, carefully, almost as if she was afraid of how he would treat her now that they weren’t afraid for their lives.

“Here _you_ are.”

To someone who didn’t know them, this exchange could seem like two old friends teasing each other, but for them it was like they were only now realizing that this was the truth; the simple, amazing and overwhelming truth.

They were here.

They were looking at each other.

Despite their horrifying fear last night, despite their belief that they would die in battle, they had beaten the odds and were alive, at the gates of Winterfell where she had once pleaded him to follow her to.

The realization was so crushing that it exploded as violently and, all of a sudden, Sansa Stark, who was witnessing the scene with a polite smile and a confused gaze, experienced one of the greatest surprises in her whole life.

For who could have known that her wild and independent little sister, the one who had once sworn never to marry and be anyone’s lady, would fiercely hug this young man—Gendry, Jon had told her his name was, a smith and Robert Baratheon’s son—and that said young man would return the hug with an equal strength, as if he never wanted to let her go again?

Unaware of Sansa’s thoughts, though, Arya simply leaned her forehead against the crook of Gendry’s neck and wrapped her arms even tighter around him, all thoughts of stubborn resistances and emotionless masks completely forgotten at the sense of his warm hug and his rapid heartbeat. Even when he pressed his own head on her shoulder and she felt hot tears staining her leather shirt and her skin, her comment came out much softer than she was intending to.

“Don’t cry your eyes out now…We are here.” She told him and his sad laughter made his breath fall on her neck; another proof of life she cherished. He didn’t even know himself for what of all he was crying first, so his answer came out as a nervous rambling, but right now he couldn’t care less because he knew that Arya would understand, that she was carrying her own burdens and therefore would never mock him for carrying his own.

“Last time you saw me, years ago, you told me you could be my family,” he whispered between his tears, his words reflecting his statement yesterday about her wanting him in Winterfell; and, judging from how her body tensed in his hug, he concluded that this was something still hurting her, no matter the time that had passed. “One of my biggest regrets is telling you that you couldn’t.”

“I hope you learned your lesson, then.” Arya replied, not leaving his hug and without raising her voice, even though she tried to ignore the pain this memory brought up in her.

On the other hand, though, there was something else together with the old pain…something new, pure and fresh that had been building up for a long time only to blossom last night, in the privacy of the moments they spent together…and now, finally, she knew what it was and was not afraid to admit it. Because with him now holding her and pretty much telling her she was his family…that they were _both_ each other’s family…never before did she feel as beautiful.

Gendry felt her relaxing in his hug again, the previous pain now gone, and he brought up his hand to the back of her head like he wanted to yesterday…only that, contrary to yesterday, now she allowed him to run his fingers through her hair. Noticing a shade behind her, he opened his eyes, only to spot the Lady Sansa looking at them with a fond smile on her face and even looking slightly guilty, as if she felt bad for witnessing their tender moment. Their gazes met over Arya’s shoulder, the blacksmith actually fearing her older sister’s reaction; would she say something due to him being a smith and a bastard?

He was met with a surprise, though, for Sansa simply nodded towards him with something that reminded him of gratitude and that made Gendry worry; if her family was worried about Arya’s state, what kind of horrors had she witnessed before coming here to become so secretive? Still, he inclined his head back at the Lady of Winterfell with a respectful and grateful smile of his own, and then focused back on Arya as Sansa took her leave to allow them some moments alone.

“It’s not over, I must tell you.” Arya told him as she pulled away from his hug and now looked at him the same way she did yesterday when she wanted to ask about her weapon; determined, the look of a fighter who never backed away from their goal. “Cersei is still alive and in King’s Landing.”

Of course; Gendry knew about Arya’s infamous list and the Queen was one of her main targets; not that he blamed her when he had lost so much because of the Lannisters and Cersei specifically, including his own father, the chance to meet him and even the chance for Robert to learn that he had a son. He also knew that, White Walkers or not, Arya would not stop until she avenged her family and punish all those who had wronged them; in fact, while searching for her minutes ago, he even heard whispers and rumors that now Arya and _both_ Lannister brothers had reasons to hate Cersei and wish her dead, meaning that they would have to go to battle again soon.

Her eyes never left his, as if awaiting his reaction, and Gendry almost burst laughing; did she seriously believe he would judge her? That he would regret their time together and back away from her in fear of what she had become? Was this a result of the terrors she had faced ever since their separation, her thinking that she was all alone with no one to understand her?

The way he cupped her face between his hands, the brief and yet desperate kiss he gave her and the way she grabbed his shirt as she returned it spoke loudly enough for them.

It was an unspoken promise that family stuck together and that they would follow each other to King’s Landing and the rest of the world.


End file.
